


A Moment Together

by smallstarfox



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Comfort, Cute, Denial of Feelings, F/F, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hugs, Introspection, Mutual Pining, Realization, Sharing a Bed, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26047036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallstarfox/pseuds/smallstarfox
Summary: Unable to sleep, Yaz finds the Doctor alone in the library, and asks for something she's been denying for a long time.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 70





	A Moment Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [timedork](https://archiveofourown.org/users/timedork/gifts), [13stardisfam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/13stardisfam/gifts).



> Hopefully I managed to cater to your interests with this.
> 
> Just wanted to give you both something for being great friends x

Quiet was not something usual for those aboard the TARDIS. In fact, not even scheduling some down time could ever save a moment on time. The universe didn't stop for quiet, no, it was far too chaotic. The Doctor, far too kind. Any moment of distress, a disturbance in time or space, she was there. Sonic in hand, filled with an innate drive to help whoever was in need. Sometimes, she would brave the deep dark skies all on her own. It was easier that way, easier to get by and do things without the prying eyes of those around her. Expect the prying eyes were always from those she loved, and leaving them behind was just as much of a struggle as keeping up with the demands the universe had set upon her. Or, she had set upon herself. So, other times, she would cross the vast expanse of space with friends. With family. With loved ones. People she held dear. Between the fear of losing them and the fear of never quite being good enough, the Doctor kept a level head. Sure, sometimes a story would end. She had gotten used to that. Not in theory, for the pain was always far too much to bear alone, and nor in practice. She merely thought she could cope with it all. Though, sometimes, even she could find herself spiralling down. Needing help.

Except, asking for it was not in her lexicon.

Help meant that she wasn't as strong as she thought, wasn't up to the task of the job of the protector of the universe. A self imposed title she held dear, used it to fend off the darkness that followed in her wake. Asking for help made her vulnerable, and vulnerability got her hurt. Being open and honest never quite worked out like the many versions of hope she planned out inside her head, and it certainly didn't help that she has somehow found a new level of awkwardness in her current regeneration. Gone was the aggressive brooding, the shouting and the threats, the tears and rage. Instead, she was left with the inability to process anything at all. Healthy or not. She tried though, in her way, but really it was far easier to keep everything to herself. Her issues were far too deep, spanning too many generations. Humans had one life, one span of potential trauma. She had an unfathomable amount, unknown even to her. Things were so much easier when she ran on the basis of being her thirteenth - fourteenth? Who knew - self, except that had spiralled far deeper than even she knew. The lies, the betrayal, the pain. Another layer of hurt added to the web of chaos constantly swirling around in her head like the raging storm she had once been labelled as.

However, there was something that the Doctor had discovered. At least, in recent times. Though she had done nothing but be trapped inside her own head, inside the fortress that kept everyone else far away from her hearts and mind, there had been a break. It had started off slowly, so slowly she had barely even noticed it. Her life had run on as normal with her current collection of humans - her fam - though avoiding most everywhere she was known had helped quite a lot, until even that had been messed up. She had tried to warn them all away, not wanting more loss on her hands, and yet they stayed. Persistently. Not with any force, not with a wedge into her life, but through careful consideration. They had grown on her, all three of them, in their own ways. Ryan had grown into the most remarkable young man. He had gained so much confidence, found out he wasn't as limited by his struggles as he once thought. He had helped her in many small ways, simply by figuring himself out and learning to cope with the hardships he had faced. The Doctor was proud of him, very much so, though found it impossible to say. She focused her attention on giving him more lessons, helping with his studies, showing him through knowledge how she felt about him. She had come to terms with his no longer permanent place on the TARDIS, and came to watch his basketball games and watched him graduate from college. He had been instrumental in telling her to stop making herself smaller, putting herself down constantly, the one to sediment the importance of family. Of course, he knew what it was like to lose so much, just like her.

She still couldn't quite understand how Graham had managed to adopt her as another child. The Doctor had substantial years on him, children and grandchildren of her own, yet that didn't stop him. They had a shared grief of losing the ones they had loved the most, a common ground of seeing things that most people would not. An empathy for mankind, and a love for all people. While she had no concept of the pain of illness, and no words to ever be able to comfort his fears around it - she had at least admitted her shortcomings gracefully and tried so hard to listen regardless - the Doctor had an endless respect for him. He was everything he had wanted to be, as the Doctor. Something about him resonated with the most recent regeneration. In that life, she knew he would have loved him still. She appreciated his quick ideas, his kind words, and she wanted to do right by him. The Doctor had already failed him, perhaps she would never quite make it right, but she tried for him. Without her words, she listened. Gave him the space to talk to her. And, when she could talk, she would. When she couldn't, she would take him to the places he wanted to go. On singular trips. He too had left the comfort of the TARDIS, though she was still always invited for tea, or breakfast, or anything she could ever want. Graham took care of her in a way she had never truly experienced before.

The cracks in her fortress of internalisation, while splintering from the rest of her found Fam, had always started with Yaz. Though she wasn't the first face she saw, the Doctor knew it was the first she truly felt a connection to from the off. Something unspoken in the way she carried herself, reminded the Doctor of her own self. Even without any recollection of who she was. Though, as well, the Doctor knew that Yaz was also her greatest source of fear. They were alike, in many ways, and the Doctor saw those traits grow the more adventures and escapades they went on. Yaz was the first to stand up to her and question her, a trait she had come to admire in any companion of hers. Though, she wouldn't truly listen. Yaz had such a strong desire to help, to make the world a better place, to do whatever it took to make a situation right. She was weak with loss, of feeling helpless and unprepared, and often did things against the grain. She was the first to outright call the Doctor out on her behaviours, question her motives, try to work out why she behaved the way she did. While the Doctor had no real sense of self, all she could do was fight back. Try to keep Yaz from breaking her down. But her eyes...the light in them. The way she smiled at her as if nobody else was there. The way she came to her for comfort when times were bad, asked for her help, was open and honest and everything the Doctor was not. Her devotion and adoration was terrifying. But it wasn't just her personality that left the Doctor all disarmed.

Far from it.

Everything about Yaz was a pitfall in the most beautiful and heart-wrenching ways. The Doctor would find herself so magnetically drawn to her. Oh, she knew she had a type, but Yasmin Khan threw all of that on its head. And yet, she fit in just fine too. Dark eyes showed everything that Yaz was potentially unaware of: her fears, her wants, her desires. The Doctor could read them all. Far from being as dense as she projected, she knew. It was something she had come to expect, with some exceptions to the rule. Her smile was the most exquisite thing she had ever seen, wide and bright and enough to make her hearts fall into an intoxicating new rhythm. She would do anything for that smile, and had done. Trips to the past, she had only truly done that for those she…

Could she even think that again?

Rumination had become a common occurrence for the Doctor, and so lost in her thoughts was she that she barely heard the soft footfall coming behind her. Her thoughts were wrapped around so much, and perhaps she had inadvertently caused a reaction to pass through the TARDIS, as there was only one other person on board that would find her tucked away in the Library. Hands stilled against the torn and stained pages of the journal, fingertips hovering over the last few words as a sense of trepidation began to crawl over her. Hairs raised over the tops of her arms, muscles growing tense, the cuffs of rolled sleeves feeling right and restrictive as the flight mode kicked in. Surely the TARDIS wouldn't go into her thoughts, surely it was mere coincidence that the object of said thoughts was coming up to her. The Doctor tried to pretend she was still reading, ignore the encroaching presence, but how could she? Yasmin Khan was impossible to ignore. Instead, she closed the journal up and let it rest on top of her crossed legs, hands sliding into shaggy hair and pushing the strands that had fallen from her ponytail back behind her ears as she braced for impact.

"Sorry. I didn't disturb you or anything, did I?"

A soft, tired voice hit her ears, and the Doctor shuffled around on the sofa to look at Yaz. Long black curls cascaded over her shoulders, tousled and wild from sleep. There were dark circles under her eyes, her fingers anxiously knotted into the fabric of her star patterned nightdress. The Doctor shook her head slowly, a gentle smile on her face as she uncurled her legs and pushed the journal to the free space on the plush sofa. Her fragile grip on TARDIS time pointed to somewhere in the middle of the night - which seemed right, as the Doctor often came to read in solitude around then - which made Yaz's appearance all the more odd. She was usually a sound sleeper, save for some nights where the effects of recent travel spurred on nightmares, though her posture was not one indicative of fear.

"You'll never disturb me, Yaz. You know I'll always make time for you."

That was such a double edged statement.

"Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare again? I can get the TARDIS to do the soft light and sounds again if you want. In fact, I'm sure she'll listen to you if you ask her, right old girl?"

There was a gentle hum from the TARDIS that travelled through the library. Though, Yaz didn't immediately respond. The Doctor watched as she nervously chewed at her bottom lip, fingers still wringing together and eyes turning to the side as she contemplated. Normally, Yaz was strong with words, and the hesitation threw the Doctor off.

"No, it's not that."

Again, Yaz seemed to pause, and the Doctor found it like looking in a strangely uncomfortable mirror. Except, her usual coping mechanism for being unable to talk was to talk far too much. She was a serial rambler, and it was very hard to not constantly shift through a thousand different conversations instead of focusing on what she really wanted to say.

"Can I...can I ask you something?"

"Of course. You don't have to ask. What's wrong? Or, more importantly, can I help?"

"It's kinda silly though…"

The Doctor pushed herself up off the sofa, taking the few steps to stand in front of Yaz. They had been in a similar spot many times before, with her looking down at Yaz with soft and understanding eyes. A strange and new part of her wanted to reach out to Yaz, place a hand on her shoulder, or maybe even something else entirely. Another part waged war, wanting to keep all the distance she had so carefully crafted. In the dim light of the library, even half asleep, Yaz looked inviting. Warm. Tangible.

"'s not silly if it's for you. You can tell me, promise."

Yaz straightened out slightly, her arms dropping down to her sides as she let out a quiet sigh and her eyes turned to the wooden floor beneath her feet.

"I don't know why... but I don't think I can sleep by myself tonight... would you mind staying with me for a little while? It's okay if you can't or don't want to. I can just go back to bed and-"

Company. Yaz was asking for company. She wanted the Doctor close. She wanted to spend time with her. Alone. Together. Asking for something that the Doctor had been thinking about for far longer than she could recall. But how close? And for how long? More importantly; why? The more she thought, the more the Doctor realised she didn't know, but she couldn't refuse and words came before she had time to process them or even think of the ramifications of having the fortress start to crumble around her.

"Sure. Come on, lead the way."

Even Yaz startled for a moment at her enthusiasm, which made for quite a sight as she briefly stumbled over her own feet and started to head out of the library with the Doctor in tow. The only sounds were sock covered feet on metal, and the comforting buzz of the TARDIS through the hallways. Again, to Yaz's surprise, it was far easier to get to her room than it had been to leave it just a few moments ago, and she was torn as to whether to thank or berate the TARDIS for moving things around again. As she entered her bedroom, the lights gently flickered on, leaving the room bathed in a soft golden glow. Her covers were still strewn aside, pillows in various spots over the bed, highlighting her restlessness plain as day. She had been surprised at herself for leaving her room, nevermind finding the Doctor. It hadn't been her main objective - that, oddly enough, had been for some tea - and instead she had landed in the library. Lingering between bookshelves as the Doctor sat on the sofa.

Yaz, admittedly, had been staring.

How could she not? Seeing the Doctor in any kind of casual setting was a next to impossible rarity. She was forever wrapped up in the same clothes, with the same stance and same air. Always unchanging, hard to get through, but boy that didn't stop Yaz at all. Nothing could, really. While she wasn't exactly sure of the timeframe of her affections, she at least knew it had been simmering. All consuming a sudden hit of longing that she desperately wanted to put words to. Everything about the Doctor was captivating, enrapturing, magnetic, symbolic. She represented everything that Yaz wanted, not just to be, but what she wanted in return. The Doctor was brave, smart, strong and capable. She was caring and thoughtful, direct and articulate. But she was also a complete enigma, forever closed off to all of them. She thought she had gotten to her, with smiles and choxie words, but so much had been thrown into question as of late. So much so, that Yaz wondered why she was even trying. Wondered if it was time to quit while she was not even ahead.

And yet somehow, despite it all, it had paid off. The Doctor was there, with her, following behind. As Yaz sat down on the bed and the Doctor paused, she could finally see it. Just how brilliant she was. Grown out blonde hair was tied up behind her head, showing off her strong features and the deep lines of life etched into her skin, topped off with a delicate trail of freckles. The soft, and yet strong, shape of her arms as they rested at her side, cuffed shirt sleeves resting above her elbows and framing the delicate lines of muscle and mass perfectly. Long fingers danced beside her hipsz nervously twitching and twisting as the Doctor's hazel-green eyes flecked with gold and brown silently asked for permission to join her. Yaz had asked her here, she could not so easily refuse her. The bed dipped further from the extra weight, and nothing could stop Yaz's eyes from continuing to drink in the Doctor. Even with her body held tall and straight, the thin cotton of the button up was draping over the gentle curves of hips and stomach, legs framed by loose plaid pants. A flash of pale skin, dotted with faint lines, peered out from an upturned corner of fabric, and Yaz wondered harder to the exact point she had lost all whereforall and fallen so hard for a mystery.

"How do you...um...how do you want to do this?"

The Doctor's voice was low and akin to a whisper, small and frail, unsure. Yaz realised then, slowly at first, that perhaps the reason the Doctor was so unavailable was perhaps she didn't know how. Or, maybe, she didn't like it. A part of her felt shame and fear at putting her in a situation that would make her feel uncomfortable.

"You still don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"No, it's okay, just...awkward, you know. Not good with this. Not sure what needs to be done so. You can...be direct. Might be easier that way."

Dark eyes looked over the Doctor again, noting the tension in her body. Her jaw was set firm, and Yaz wanted nothing more than to make her feel at ease. The first thing she thought of, watching the golden light reflect off her bright hair, was the tight hairband wrapped close to her scalp. Yaz knew exactly what she wanted to ask of the Doctor, but tact was called for. A gentle touch. Softness.

How soft was the Doctor?

"It might be easier to manage with your hair down. Do you mind if-"

"Oh. Go ahead Yaz."

The Doctor turned her head to the side, body shuffling closer across the bed and putting herself directly in front of Yaz. It was the closest, in recent memory, that Yaz had ever been to the Doctor. The stray strands of hair from her ponytail tickled the end of her nose. Even then, there was much more assaulting her senses than that. The scent of tea, oil and smoke. Pressure against the side of her legs from the Doctor's body. The sound of strangely staggered breathing. All she had to do was take the hairband from her hair. It was easy. And yet, she found her fingers growing still and hard to move. The Doctor's hair was so much softer than she had ever imagined, one hand gently resting against the top of her head as the other started to work at the hairband. Within a few seconds, blonde hair was billowing down across the Doctor's shoulders, faintly rippled with waves. Despite having done what she needed to, Yaz kept her hands in the Doctor's hair, faintly surprised at how she seemed to lean back into her touch. It was the most intimate moment she had ever experienced, her fingers gently moving on their own across the Doctor's scalp.

"Oh…"

She said nothing else, just a breathy sigh, and Yaz found herself smiling. It started out small, just a twitch on her lips, barely there. Though the more she worked her fingers against the Doctor's scalp and she grew more vocal, the more the smile grew. It was strange, really, to get the thing she had wanted for so long. Especially after just asking for it. How long would she have saved herself suffering for if she had just opened up? Possibly a lot of time. Although the Doctor was a law unto herself, and her asking would probably have done nothing to help. She was so closed off from the rest of them, it was intimidating. Yaz wanted to get closer to the Doctor, to mean something to her, and perhaps she could finally start that journey now. Or, maybe she should just count herself lucky that she had a moment at all. Just a single moment in time she would remember always.

"You should get into bed, Yaz. It's late. You're tired."

"Only if you come with me."

Both of them stopped then. The Doctor tensed up again, growing stiff as a board as Yaz did the same. Her fingers felt like concrete, numb and unattached to her body. Why had she said that? God, she was so stupid, what was she thinking? Nothing. Apparently. Mentally berating herself, Yaz groaned and quickly moved her hands away from the Doctor's head and shuffled backwards slightly. If she wanted to leave, at least she had the room to now.

"Okay."

Except, she didn't.

She stayed. In fact, the Doctor rose up off the bed and pushed the duvet aside enough so that both of them could get into the bed. Yaz blinked several times in disbelief, feeling her heart rate spike as she crawled over to the other side of the bed. There had been times where sharing a bed with the Doctor had been a possibility. Except it had never happened. Either she stayed awake the entire night, doing whatever it was to keep herself occupied, and on two separate occasions she had insisted on sleeping on the floor. Though they weren't going to be sharing a random bed on a random planet or in a random place in time, no. This was her bed. Yaz's bed. The one that the TARDIS had made especially for her from some bizarre psychic connection that had tapped into her desires. With little else to do, she pushed a pillow over towards the Doctor and got another for herself and pulled the duvet back over. There was a serious tension growing in the space between them, something that Yaz knew had been brewing for a number of months now, and one she wasn't sure if she should consider broaching. Then again, she had asked the Doctor to help her get back to sleep. She had agreed. Was open to the idea. What could go wrong from asking again?

"Do you just...want someone here...or?"

The Doctor rolled over onto her side, eyes turning to the ceiling and watching the lights dim down to nothing before looking back at Yaz. Her eyes had no issues in the dark, and she could actually see much better than in the light by all accounts, so she could see the confusion and trepidation on Yaz's face. Really, the Doctor also knew it was her own fault for such a reaction. She had pushed everyone so far away, that showing any sign of understanding now was out of character. She hated that. Every cell in her body was screaming to reach out, to say something better, or do something. Anything. But fear was paralysing her in kind. It was too much to bear, too much to think about, and all her hopes rested on Yaz taking the whole 'be literal' as gospel.

"Can I get a hug?"

Silence fell as Yaz quietly spoke into her pillow and behind a veil of hair. She brought her knees up to her chest and thought of every prayer she could think of to save her from the embarrassment of rejection. The Doctor, on the other hand, felt her hearts swell and everything fall suddenly into place.

"Yaz, you don't know how long I've wanted that to be asked for."

Opening her arms up, the Doctor beckoned for Yaz to move across the bed - which she did, slowly and with disbelief - to settle in between them. The strong grip of the Doctor soon enveloped her, and she came to rest her cheek against the cotton covering her sternum. There, she heard the double thrum of twin hearts, and sighed. The two of them had danced around the bushes, beaten them, completely ignored them and buried everything so far down inside. Together, they were a right pair, but Yaz didn't care at all. She felt the Doctor gently stroke her back, down her spine, and breathed in the scent that was so uniquely her.

"How long had you been waiting?"

With a quiet laugh, the Doctor let her chin rest on the top of Yaz's head, humming briefly before she replied.

"Since the day I got my TARDIS back. Maybe even a little before then. How long have you wanted to ask?"

"About the same time."

It had taken months. So much thinking and worrying and fear and longing. Until finally, both of them had gotten what they wanted more than anything. Each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come say hi on social media~  
> I'm AmAgusSpas on Twitter and Tumblr.


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